When Life Gives You Lemons
by SylvieT
Summary: Winner of the March 2016 CSI FO fanfiction challenge, yeah! It's a fun piece, about how Greg found out, set toward the end of season 6. Sara/Greg friendship. GSR.
A/N: This is my entry to the March 2016 CSI FO Fanfiction challenge – prompts/one-shot.

I've chosen _What do you mean we're out of lemons?_ as my opening line. There were others, but this one jumped at me.

I hope you'll enjoy.

* * *

When Life Gives You Lemons.

* * *

"What do you mean we're out of lemons?"

Grissom's voice was loud enough to resonate through the stud wall, and Sara paused in her tracks outside the locker room. She checked her surroundings – the corridor was deserted – then cocked her head toward the door, but even though she heard Greg speak she couldn't make out his reply.

The door was open a crack, and after a moment's hesitation she pushed it open, venturing in. Grissom's tone didn't bode well, and Greg could do with her help, she was sure of it. The lingering odour of decomp in the air was unmissable, and her nose twitching she stopped at the threshold.

The two of them had gone to process a dead body at the Las Vegas municipal dump, and by the smell of things the body had been long dead. Her brow rose at the scene. Freshly out of the shower, Greg stood half-dressed and his head bowed with his back to her in front of an irate-looking, half-naked Grissom.

Looking down at the file in her hands, she pinched her lips to suppress her smile. Grissom stood in his socks and boxers only, the dark blue T-shirt and CSI coveralls he'd been wearing discarded in the far corner of the room. Briefly she wondered whether she should just retrace her steps, close the door and leave them to it.

Grissom looked over at her suddenly, registering a look of surprise at seeing her there, and she gave him a faint smile. "Anything I can do to help?" she asked.

"Not unless you got a bag of lemons handy."

Some of his anger seemingly abating, Grissom gave a sheepish shrug, while looking like he carried the weight of the world on his small shoulders Greg turned toward her.

"Hot shot, here," Grissom went on tersely, hooking his thumb at Greg, "used up all the lemons. So now there's nothing to wash off this…this…" he lifted an armpit toward his nose and sniffed, "stench."

"Grissom, I told you," Greg interjected. "There were only two left."

"Yeah, well, that's not good enough. Those lemons were mine, Greg."

Raising a pacifying hand, Sara opened her mouth to intervene but Greg cut her off.

"I didn't know," he said. "They were in the communal area so I―"

"―used the last one without thinking of anybody else but yourself. What am I meant to do now, huh? I've another three hours of work to get through."

Greg glanced toward Sara. "I'm sorry, Grissom. I'll buy some more lemons and bring them in tonight."

"What good will they be to me then?"

Failing to suppress her smile at Grissom's pissy tone, Sara turned her face away. Greg opened his mouth, but then thought better than answering and all that came out was a long, fed-up sigh. He spread his hands, showing his helplessness, then turning toward his locker rummaged through his wash bag and took out a bottle of shower gel.

"I've some lemon-scented shower gel," he said, holding the bottle out toward Grissom. "It's…good stuff. Expensive. Ten lemons and tea tree essential oils in each bottle. I have it shipped especially from the UK. You can have it. In fact, you can use it all."

Grissom stared at Greg with disbelief. "It won't work, and you know it."

With a sigh, Greg dropped the shower gel onto the bench and turned toward Sara. He gave her a pointed look, and she an encouraging smile. "I saw Sara use them and I thought anyone could…" Sara's eyes widened as she gave a quick shake of the head, and Greg stopped in his tracks. With another hard-done-by sigh, he turned toward his locker, pulled out a floral shirt and finished getting dressed.

Sara looked over at Grissom who shrugged his shoulders at her in a helpless gesture. The message in his expression was clear, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lose my temper."

"You need to tell him that, not me," she replied silently.

Grissom glanced at Greg, hesitated, then looked down and picked up the shower gel from the bench, his towel and wash bag, and wordlessly headed to the showers. Sara pinched her lips to hide her amusement. Greg grabbed his socks and shoes, then bad-temperedly sat down on the bench and put them on. Sara waited for Grissom to turn on the water to join him on the bench.

"What's all this about, huh?" she asked, and bumped her shoulder to his affectionately. "It's not just about lemons, is it?"

Greg shook his head despondently, sighed. "I messed up, Sara. Tonight, in the field. I don't know what it is. Every time I have to work with him I do something wrong. Something I'd never do otherwise." He made a frustrating sound. "I've been a Level One for over a year, Sara, and he still treats me as the little kid. I'm working damn hard; I do everything I can. I should have made Level Two by now."

Sara wrapped a sympathetic arm around his shoulders. "You will. Soon. You're doing great, Greg, so stop worrying. We all make mistakes." She paused, leaned forward to catch his eye. "You know Grissom; he's hard on all of us. He's got high expectations, right?"

"Yeah, well, that's the thing. I don't think I'm living up to them."

"You are," she said with conviction. "Trust me, Grissom knows your worth. We all do. Just keep your head down, and for goodness' sake, buy him some more lemons." Greg smiled, and after a moment Sara stood up. "I should go," she said, "And finish up on my case. You going to be okay?"

Greg gave a vigorous nod. "Yeah. Thanks for the pep talk."

Sara smiled widely. "Any time. But don't worry. And remember…it'll happen."

"Yeah," Greg said dryly.

"It will," she insisted brightly, "when the time's right."

"When the time's right for Grissom, you mean."

Thinking that Greg's words couldn't be truer, Sara patted her hand to his shoulder. Greg stood up, and leaning in toward him she gave a deliberate good sniff. "Not a whiff of decomp."

"Don't," he said, stifling laughter as he glanced toward the showers. "Oh, and by the way, sorry I almost landed you in it."

She frowned, but then it dawned on her he meant when he'd almost let slip he'd seen her use Grissom's lemons. "It's okay. No harm done. You off home?"

Greg smiled, shook his head. "I've a breakfast date with Mindy. I'm taking her to the Palermo."

"Oh, it's Mindy now, is it?"

Blushing a little, he glanced toward the showers and lowered his voice. "Which is why I absolutely needed to use that last lemon."

Sara laughed. "You knew they were his, didn't you?"

"You won't tell him, will you? He's mad enough at me already as it is."

"My lips are sealed." Sara smiled brightly, picked up her case file from the bench and moved toward the door. "You enjoy your date, Greg. You can give me all the details tonight. And don't forget the lemons."

"I won't."

Sara was leaving when Greg called her back and she popped her head round the door. "You want to come along?" he asked. "To breakfast, I mean."

"And crash your date? No, thanks, but thank you. Besides, how do you know I don't have a breakfast date of my own?"

Greg grabbed his jacket and shut his locker. "I'd know if you did."

Sara smiled. "You sound very sure of yourself."

Frowning, he watched her suspiciously. "You'd tell me, right?"

"I don't know," she teased. "Maybe I would. Maybe I wouldn't."

* * *

Sara was in the layout room, getting her paperwork ready for the DA's office before she'd head home, when Grissom strode in, pulled up a stool and sat down a little way away from her. Not far enough it would seem, for the smell of decomp still lingered about him. Feeling his eyes on her face, she smiled and looked over at him. His gaze was soft, smiling; he'd clearly got over his gripe about the lemons. His hair was still damp from his shower and she had to stop herself from reaching out to him.

"How are you getting on?" he asked, nodding at the documents in front of her.

"I'm almost done."

"You think the DA will have enough to get a conviction?"

"I think so, yeah."

Grissom gave a thoughtful nod. "That's good work, Sara."

Her face lit up with pleasure at the heartfelt praise. "Thanks, Griss."

Grissom nodded again, then looked down hesitantly before bringing his gaze back up to her face. He had something on his mind, she could tell, and so she stared unwaveringly back and waited. He looked toward the open door, gave a sigh and she understood that he was debating whether to bring up a personal issue or not.

Licking his lips, he glanced at the door again. "How does Greg know what you use when you shower?" he finally asked quietly, meeting her expectant gaze.

A slow smile grew on her face. He'd aimed for casual, but there was no mistaking the jealousy in his tone. She opened her mouth, but could only shrug in reply.

"That's twice now, he's seen you shower."

Sara's brow rose; she hadn't expected him to be keeping count. "Twice, is it? You're sure it wasn't _three_ times?"

Grissom rolled his eyes at her.

"The decontamination shower last year doesn't count. Greg said he didn't see anything."

"And you believed him?"

A wide smile broke across her face. "Yes, I did actually. Greg's one of the good guys."

Looking dubious, Grissom twisted his mouth. "You haven't answered my question."

She laughed. "Two weeks ago. The McKinley case. And for the record he didn't see me in the shower. He just…saw me disposing of the evidence afterwards." She paused, gave him a tentative smile. "You were a little harsh on him, you know, earlier."

Looking somewhat contrite, Grissom let out a long breath. "He was there and took the brunt of my frustrations, but Sara I reeked." He sniffed his shoulder. "I still do."

"He's working hard, you know? To meet your expectations."

"I know he is," he replied quietly after a beat. "And he's meeting them."

Sara averted her gaze hesitantly, then brought it back up decisively.

"Go on," he said, the ghost of a smile on his lips. "Say what you want to say."

"Well, I know you're the boss – and a great one at that I hasten to add – and you know what you're doing―"

"But?"

She shrugged. "I think it'd be good if you could tell him once in a while. I'd hate it if he thought he wasn't a valued member of the team."

Grissom sighed, nodded. "He's due for a promotion soon."

Sara's smile returned. "There's that too."

Grissom twisted his lips, but didn't otherwise comment, and Sara hoped she'd put her point across.

"Shift's over," she went on. "Why don't you go home, shower properly there?"

"I can't. I haven't got time." He made to check the time on his watch, but he'd obviously forgotten to put it back on after his shower. He sighed and shook his head. "I've a meeting with Ecklie in half-an-hour."

"Postpone it." A smile formed, twitching at her lips, and she looked over her shoulder, checking that the coast was clear before she closed the distance between them.

Reading her intention, he moved back. "Don't," he said, light-heartedly. "Or you'll cop it too."

Sara smiled, shrugged that it didn't matter. "I haven't showered yet. If you postpone your meeting, maybe we could…I don't know…go home and…have that shower together."

A wide, pleasurable smile spread on his lips. "I have lemons."

Her grin widened. "I know. I could squeeze them for you."

Grissom pinched his lips, but didn't manage to curb his laughter. "That's a tempting offer―you offering to squeeze my lemons like that."

Sara pulled a face at him. "I didn't mean it like that and you know it."

"Shame."

His smile lingered as he watched her tenderly. Then glancing toward the door, he reached out a shy hand toward her and stroked the back of it to her face. The gesture was unexpected; she could count the times they'd touched each other tenderly while at work in the last eight months or so since they'd been dating, on the fingers of one hand. "I'll go speak to Ecklie," he said, dropping his hand and looking a little melancholy all of a sudden, "see what I can do."

"And I'll stop on the way and grab us some breakfast."

His eyes boring into hers, he gave a solemn nod. They heard voices in the corridor outside, and turning toward them Grissom stood up while Sara turned back to her evidence and paperwork.

Their little interlude was over.

* * *

At the start of shift that night, Sara was in the locker room chatting with Nick when Greg arrived. Greetings were exchanged, and Greg went to his locker. Her eyes on him, Sara finished lacing up her work boots, while Nick left, promising he was putting a pot of coffee on.

Greg opened his backpack and took out two large bags of lemons. Her brow arched wryly. There were enough to make several litres of lemonade with.

"You sure you got enough?" she said, laughing.

Greg shrugged. He was looking a little subdued. He put the lemons on the bench and turning toward his locker stowed the rest of his stuff inside.

"You okay?" she asked, watching him with concern.

"Sure."

She narrowed her eyes. "You're still pissed at Grissom for this morning?"

"No."

Sara watched him for a moment longer before turning her attention back to her boots. "Your date with Mindy didn't go well?" she tried again, thinking that could explain his bad mood now.

"It was fine." And then rather curtly and not looking at her, "Yours?"

Sara stopped short, looked toward the open door. He couldn't know, could he? He'd already left the lab when she and Grissom had had their chat in the layout room. She put her best poker face on. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason."

Her puzzlement intensified. She gave her head a shake, then stood up, making to leave. "Oh, by the way, Grissom said he wanted to see you. He's in his office."

"You would know, wouldn't you?" There was no mistaking the resentment in his voice.

Sara stopped at the threshold, let out a breath and turned around. Greg was watching her, his brow arched challengingly. He knew, and he was angry she hadn't told him. There was no point keeping up the pretence, and she wasn't going to deliberately lie to his face. "How did you find out?" she asked in a quiet voice so they wouldn't be overheard.

Greg shrugged, played it cool. His anger seemed to abate at the fact that she'd confirmed his suspicions. "This morning when you walked in on us, he was in his boxers and he never once flinched. That and the lemons―it only occurred to me afterwards."

Sara couldn't help the smile that escaped her lips. For that alone, she thought, he should get his promotion. "I'm sorry I didn't― _couldn't_ tell you."

Greg lifted another sulky shoulder.

"No one can know, Greg," she insisted, "You understand that, right? It's against lab policy and Gi―Grissom stands to lose a lot if ever Ecklie got wind of it."

Greg let out a long sigh. Sara gave him her brightest smile, and his expression finally softened. "Are you happy?" he asked.

Sara didn't have to think of her reply. "Very."

"Then your secret's safe with me."

Closing the distance to him, she opened her arms and gave him a heartfelt hug he returned warmly. "Thank you. And I'm sorry."

"It's okay." His face lit up suddenly. "Hey, come to think of it, that's good ammunition, right?" He waggled his brow delightedly. "Should I need it."

Knowing he was only joking, Sara smiled. "I've a feeling you won't need that ammunition just now."

"Oh?"

"Grissom's got good news. And I should know," she added cheekily, moving toward the door. "Don't leave him waiting."

"There's something I got to know, Sara," Greg called, stopping her in her tracks.

She turned. "What's that?"

"Is he a grumpy old fart at home too?"

She smiled widely. "Wouldn't you like to know."


End file.
